"What should I do, then?" Adrian asked directly, following the natural flow of their conversation. "What's the actual path forward from this plateau?"
"That depends entirely on you as an individual," Dumbledore said philosophically, reaching for the tea that had appeared on the small table between their chairs.
He poured himself a cup of steaming amber liquid. "But based on the experience of those exceptional wizards who came before us and successfully navigated similar challenges, breaking through this barrier may require you to experience exceptionally intense emotions or develop unparalleled conviction about something fundamental to your being."
He paused, taking a contemplative sip before adding with a slight, self-deprecating smile, "It sounds remarkably simple and almost disappointingly vague when I put it that way, doesn't it?"
Adrian felt this explanation was rather like a classic trope from certain movies and television shows—the moment of emotional breakthrough, the power of belief, the transformative crisis. Well, perhaps that was a strange and somewhat inappropriate way to think about serious magical development, but the parallel made a certain sense nonetheless.
After all, magic should be exactly like this at its deepest levels. Connected to emotion, to will, to the fundamental nature of the wizard casting it.
Adrian didn't yet know specifically what he personally needed to do or experience to trigger such a leap forward. Just as Dumbledore had wisely said, perhaps one day in the uncertain future, such a pivotal opportunity would quietly arrive, unannounced and unexpected. He would simply have to remain ready to recognize and seize it when the moment came.
"What actually happens after successfully breaking through the jam?" Adrian asked with curiosity, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "What kind of concrete changes occur in one's magical capabilities?"
"At that moment," Dumbledore said slowly, gently setting down his teacup with a soft clink, "certain specific spells in your repertoire will suddenly display unprecedented power and capability. Not merely a simple linear enhancement of what came before, but rather a qualitative leap into something different. A metamorphosis."
'A qualitative leap...' Adrian's heart stirred, a surge of anticipation rose in his chest. He found himself asking almost before thinking, "Could you show me?"
He knew that Dumbledore must have long since crossed that mysterious threshold himself. This man renowned as the most powerful wizard of the current age, victor over Grindelwald, wielder of the Elder Wand—he was definitely not operating at the same level as ordinary wizards.
Adrian even privately suspected that in the original story timeline, Dumbledore had never truly revealed his greatest strength, his full capabilities. The old wizard seemed to have always held something in reserve.
Of course, Adrian recognized that this might be a rather excessive, even presumptuous request to make. Even if he were politely refused, he wouldn't feel any real surprise or resentment at the rejection. He honestly wasn't holding out much hope for agreement.
"No problem at all," Dumbledore said unexpectedly, readily agreeing without hesitation. His eyes sparkled with what looked like pleasure at the prospect. "An excellent idea, actually. Let's relocate to a more suitable place for such demonstrations. Fawkes!"
The phoenix responded immediately with a clear, ringing call that echoed through the office. He spread his wings wide and flew to hover directly above both men. Golden-red sparks and embers scattered from his feathers like magical rain.
The next second, after that now-familiar spinning, disorienting sensation of phoenix travel, they found themselves standing in the completely empty Quidditch pitch.
The Quidditch pitch was utterly deserted, empty of any students or spectators. Soft snowflakes were falling quietly from the heavy gray sky, steadily covering the entire stadium in a blanket of white. The world felt muffled and hushed under the snow.
"Let me think carefully about what would be most appropriate to demonstrate..." Dumbledore pondered aloud, leaving a single footprint in the unmarked snow as he walked a few paces.
Then he turned to face Adrian. "Perhaps the Fire-Making Charm? Incendio? That should serve nicely."
At some point during their transition, Adrian noticed, Dumbledore had already grasped the legendary Elder Wand firmly in his right hand.
'The Fire-Making Charm?'
Adrian nodded in understanding and agreement. This was indeed a basic spell that almost every wizard learned in their first or second year. However, as any experienced magic user knew, in different hands and with different levels of skill and power, the effects displayed could vary so intensely as to seem like completely different spells.
"What level can your Incendio reach currently?" Dumbledore asked with interest. "Why don't you demonstrate for me first, so I have a baseline for comparison? Use your absolute maximum power output—don't hold back or restrain yourself for safety concerns."
Adrian drew his wand from within his robes.
'Maximum power...' he thought, narrowing his eyes slightly with calculation and concern. The resulting commotion wouldn't be small. After all, his spells currently benefited from the significant "energy amplification" enhancement provided by his connection to the Tree of Wisdom.
That amplification could produce rather spectacular results.
"Is there a problem?" Dumbledore asked perceptively, noticing Adrian's moment of hesitation and the slight tension in his posture.
"No, no problem," Adrian shook his head, dismissing his concerns. He raised his wand steadily, pointing it toward the empty sky above the pitch's center.
Dumbledore considerately moved a considerable distance away, repositioning himself to one side of the pitch for both safety and optimal viewing angle. He crossed his arms loosely over his chest, watching with keen attention. A trace of anticipation showed in his old penetrating gaze.
Just as Adrian didn't fully understand all the depths and limits of Dumbledore's formidable strength, so too was Dumbledore genuinely curious about the true level his relatively young Care of Magical Creatures professor had now reached.
"Incendio!" Adrian spoke the incantation clearly and calmly, channeling his full power into the familiar spell without any restraint.
"BOOM!"
The sound was absolutely thunderous, like a bomb detonating or a dragon's roar amplified a hundred times.
In the very center of the snow-covered Quidditch pitch, a massive, scorching pillar of fire instantly erupted and shot straight toward the overcast sky like a rocket launch. The brilliant, almost blinding firelight immediately illuminated the entire gray sky in shades of red and orange, transforming afternoon into something resembling sunset or dawn.
The surging flames rose with such intensity and heat that they seemed as if they would burn through the sky itself, pierce the clouds, reach toward space. The falling snowflakes within a fifty-foot radius vaporized instantly upon contact with the thermal covering, not even reaching the ground. They transformed directly from solid ice to steam, forming a thick ring of roiling mist around the base of the fire pillar.
The temperature in the area spiked intensely, the cold winter air was suddenly becoming uncomfortably warm.
Dumbledore, witnessing this extraordinary display of raw magical power, couldn't help but freeze completely for a moment.
It wasn't until the glaring, intense firelight became bright enough to actually burn his eyes that he instinctively raised one hand to shield his face, squinting against the glare.
This... this was absolutely not within the range of what he had expected or anticipated. Not even close.
The sheer scale and power were staggering.
After approximately ten full seconds of maintaining this massive conflagration, Adrian gently waved his wand in a smooth, controlled dismissal gesture.
The gigantic pillar of fire instantly dissipated completely, vanishing as if it had never existed. The flames simply ceased, leaving only residual heat shimmering in the air and a large circle of completely melted snow exposing the grass beneath.
At precisely the same time, in various locations throughout the castle of Hogwarts, students who happened to be attending afternoon Potions class in the dungeons and classes in other parts of the castle with external windows—all turned their curious gazes toward the windows.
Even though the distance from the dungeons to the Quidditch pitch was quite considerable, they had still clearly noticed the enormous commotion Adrian had created.
"What in Merlin's name was that?" Ron said in a lowered but urgent voice to Harry beside him at their shared work table. His eyes were wide. "Did you just see that!"
Harry nodded seriously, answering with some concern creeping into his voice, "That came from the direction of the Quidditch pitch, I'm certain. But what could cause something like that? An accident?"
"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape's characteristically icy voice suddenly cut through the classroom chatter like a blade through butter, "for being distracted in class and clearly not paying attention to your potion, which is currently the wrong shade, two points from Gryffindor."
His black eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction.
The students immediately withdrew their gazes from the windows and returned attention to their cauldrons, though whispered speculation continued.
Harry simply shrugged with resignation—he was already thoroughly used to Snape's discriminatory treatment and constant point deductions for the most minor errors.
But in any case, it was definitely better not to lose focus again right now, or Snape would find more reasons to dock points.
The view returned to the Quidditch pitch, where the snow continued falling peacefully as if nothing had occurred.
After casting Incendio with his absolute full power and carefully observing the results, Adrian walked calmly across the snow-covered grass to stand before Dumbledore. He said with genuine, slight regret and frustration, "This is all I can currently do. This represents my ceiling."
'This is all you can do? Are you being serious right now?'
Dumbledore slowly lowered the hand that had been shielding his eyes from the glare, blinking to clear the spots from his vision. He fell into momentary silence, processing what he'd just witnessed.
"Are you absolutely certain you've actually hit a developmental blockage?" He asked finally, looking Adrian up and down, his expression was somewhat complex and difficult to read. "Because the raw power of that Fire-Making Charm you just demonstrated has already far, far exceeded the normal limits of ordinary wizards."
"This truly is my current limit," Adrian answered with complete sincerity, meeting Dumbledore's eyes directly. His tone carried a hint of anticipation as he continued, "Now, if you would, could you let me see what level you can reach, Professor Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore gently stroked the Elder Wand thoughtfully. He smiled with meaningful mystery. "Of course. I would be delighted."
In truth, Dumbledore's inner mental state wasn't nearly as calm and composed as what he projected outwardly. The magic Adrian had just displayed had completely exceeded even his generous imagination and expectations.
Honestly speaking, objectively assessing the situation, perhaps if he himself used roughly half of his strength in his youth, he might not be able to achieve that specific level of pure destructive power and scale in the Incendio spell. Adrian's raw output was genuinely impressive.
But... even though he was already well over a hundred years old, oldie by any standard, that competitive spirit had never truly faded or diminished with age.
Moreover, sometimes the true strength and sophistication of a spell couldn't be accurately measured by simple destructive power alone. There were other qualities that mattered.
Subtlety. Control. Transformation.
"Incendio!" Dumbledore pronounced clearly, waving the Elder Wand.
Another impressive plume of golden-red firelight rose rapidly into the cold air, climbing and spreading. The overcast sky was once again dyed in bright shades of fire of scarlet, crimson, orange, gold.
But... Adrian observed carefully and felt the display was just decent. The flame appeared even slightly inferior in raw brightness compared to his own effort.
He didn't immediately see any obvious "qualitative change" in Dumbledore's magic that would justify the buildup.
Just then, interrupting his slightly disappointed assessment, the phoenix Fawkes who had been perched quietly nearby suddenly flapped his powerful wings with joy and excitement. He launched himself into the air and began circling happily, gracefully among the dancing flames, swooping and diving through the fire with pleasure.
Only at that moment did Adrian truly understand and realize that Dumbledore's flames weren't ordinary magical fire at all—not the standard destructive flames produced by the typical Incendio charm.
They were phoenix fire. A unique, special kind of flame that was simultaneously both gentle and fierce, healing and destructive, full of profound contradiction. Fire that could burn without consuming, that could warm without scorching, that could purify without destroying.
The flames possessed life and intelligence of a sort.
"Adrian," Dumbledore spoke suddenly. His gaze followed Fawkes lovingly as the bird played joyfully in the harmless fire. "Why do you think Fawkes has chosen to remain by my side all this time?"
"Because you're Dumbledore?" Adrian said.
"That has absolutely nothing to do with it," Dumbledore shook his head still watching Fawkes dance.
"A phoenix is naturally willing to approach and observe anyone who possesses genuinely noble qualities—kindness, loyalty, courage, selflessness, sacrifice. They're drawn to such virtues like moths to flame."
He paused significantly. "But if you want a phoenix to truly recognize you as a companion, to bond with you and choose to remain at your side permanently, there's a crucial prerequisite: you must be able to summon and sustain flames that match the phoenix's own unique attributes. Flames that embody those same contradictory qualities—fierce yet gentle, destructive yet healing, final yet renewing."
Adrian immediately understood the profound lesson in those words.
In other words, Fawkes's presence, his companionship, his willing bond—that was the living proof of the "qualitative change" that Dumbledore had spoken of so mysteriously.
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